Algebra
by rainweptsoul
Summary: Maybe if Orc wasn't so stupid he could pass Algebra, and get the girl. And maybe none of this would have ever happened, The FAYZ I mean.


**So after nearly two months of absolute nothingness I'm posting something. This is a completely different fic from my last one. And will be multiple chapters. I am currently working on a sequel to Orc's Light, but I have been, well busy. I haven't decided whether I like this fic yet, this chapter is pre-FAYZ the rest will not be. I suppose this could be considered a series of vignettes. Let me know your opinions, still debating whether or not to continue it anyways. Thanks. Enjoy.**

Algebra

RainWeptSoul

"All you have to do is carry the 28 over to the other side, see?"

"Yeah," Orc grumbled he knew he didn't have to be here, he'd much rather be smoking with Howard, but he was failing and Orc couldn't afford to repeat eighth grade, again. At least that's what his father told him and Orc wasn't all keen on the punishment that would be induced if he didn't pass, so here he sat with Astrid, getting tutored. How embarrassing. He had lied to Howard about where he was if Howard knew it would be the end of him, Howard wouldn't like him if he was stupid.

"Orc?"

"What?"

"What's your answer?"

"I forgot."

Astrid smirked, a smile and a giggle escaping her lips; Orc had the sudden urge to hold her, to feel her petite form against his bully's figure, to kiss her. Orc had never wanted to kiss anyone before, he was confused, he had to be. He supposed it was just the way her hair fell, the color, Orc liked sparkly things, her hair shone gold, enhanced by the translucent sun streams that filtered in through a cracked window opening the room, serene.

She sighed, "Let's try it again, Charles."

She'd used his name, his real name.

* * *

It was a Thursday, a thin layer of mist dribbled off each tiny stem of grass pooling into the sodden soil. The clouds breached they sky, flickers of a grayish blue exposed, with only a teardrop of a sun. Golden. Orc looked up from where he sat, glancing sideways, smirking at Howard's grimace towards the alcoholic burn. Orc spoke.

"What class I missing?"

"Algebra."

"Maybe we go back."

"What? Why?"

Orc had nearly blown his cover, stupid, pathetic, if Howard knew. He couldn't miss Algebra, what would Astrid think? Howard wouldn't understand, Howard would say he was being stupid.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

Howard sighed, he wondered what it would be like to have a friend who actually could keep a conversation, but he didn't want to abandon Orc. They were like one of those relationships he'd learned about in class, where the bird lived with the hippo and would take care of the hippo, and in return the hippo would keep it safe. He was the bird. Orc was the hippo. They needed each other.

"You'll be the death of me, here drink more."

Orc took the bottle tenderly bringing it to his lips, slumping back onto the grass.

* * *

The clock read noon, twelve o' clock on a Saturday, red gaudy symbols eating their way into his mind as he tried to decipherer them. They hurt his head, flipping around moving, refusing to stay still, Twenty-One, that didn't make any sense.

"What time is it?"

"Read the clock."

"I'm trying."

"Try harder."

Orc wished Howard was here, Howard would know what time it was. Orc hated his father. _Try harder. _

* * *

"Glad to see you decided to show up Mr. Merriman," Orc stood in the doorway, I small whimper of protests came from the back of the room, they were scared of Orc. "But you're late." The teacher talked too much, the bitter edge of the man's voice biting at him.

"I got lost."

"Just sit down."

Orc swayed, his foot lifting falling back down as he collected his posture. His mind was soothed from a beer he'd split earlier with Howard, just tipsy enough that he was focused, calmed. He took short strides, feeling the eyes of each individual following him, shredding away his sense of uniqueness, cowering. He pulled a chair out, skidding, squeaking, the boy in the seat next to him looked as if he'd just about wet his pants, jumping up fleeing to an empty table. Some kind of athlete Orc figured, a boy whose ego was huge, probably enlarged every morning when his mother told him how wonderfully divine he was, a bully perhaps, all high in mighty from a distance. Was Orc jealous? Possibly. He slumped down into the chair, metal legs bashing with tile, the chair moaning at its holder's weight. Orc glanced back. How proud the boy looked, how blatantly obvious he was making it that he thought he was courageous. One could expect he would be spreading the story around the halls for weeks of how he had defeated the mighty Orc. Pathetic. "Prick."

The marker squealed, pushed against the pristine whiteness, drawing numbers, the formation of an equation, twisted. Pencils scratched against dirtied paper working hard, wanting to be the rat that finished the maze first, a test. Orc blinked, eyes focusing, trying to understand, straining. He wasn't very good at reading, he was even worse at Algebra. He squinted, ignoring the heavily approaching footsteps, a soft sound whispering at the edge of his hearing, teasing.

"You haven't written anything." Obviously, he really did talk too much, didn't this teacher realize he wanted to be alone. Orc glanced down at his paper hoping the numbers would sprout growing into a flower with the right answer.

"Charles? Why haven't you written anything?"

"I heard you."

"Then respond."

"Because…"

Orc was interrupted by the egotistical prat, "Because he's a dumbass, would be the excuse he's looking for, I believe."

"No I'm not."

"Language Mr. Palmer." The teacher's words were full of exhaustion and what appeared to be a blasé attitude. "But it's true," the kid protested, trying so hard to justify his words.

"No it's not," Orc roared. He felt the anger seize up in his throat, choking him, he attempted to pry it away, but it was useless. He pushed the flimsy table away, the wood crashing to the tile, an echo of metal and wood, his fist impacting, the first blow, fist against skin. He withdrew his hand, blood curling down his knuckles, running down his wrist, the boy's blood. Bone pushed to the left, red splattered ornately on an upper lip falling from a broken nose, a whimpering boy clutching his face.

"Principal's office, Mr. Merriman, now."

* * *

A black-eye and a busted lip, swollen, bloody, painful.

"Maybe next time you decide to hit someone you won't get caught. Do you know how disgusting it is to have to be asked to come in to school? Do you?"

His mother watched helplessly on the side, hands pressed into marble counter top, knuckles turning white with strain, the scene lay out before her fighting desperately to keep it inside her own head, it wasn't happening, again.

"Why'd you hit him?" Cigarette in hand, a wreath of smoke flowing upwards collecting in a loose curtain on the ceiling, he breathed in allowing the smoke to collect in his lungs shutting his eyes for only a second letting it go to his head.

"He called me stupid."

"You are stupid."

Orc looked up helplessly, forlorn, the normally intimidating aura shrinking back behind his eyes, retreating, the power gone.

"You can't even pass Algebra."

* * *

"Does it hurt?" Her voice was soft; her hair collecting around her jaw line as she leaned forward, her eyes shone a brilliant blue seeing through the façade, constant. Orc touched the bruise, it stung, the finger probing the sensitive flesh puffy and disgusting. "I guess." Astrid the Genius was silent, she didn't know what to say, she had never been hit before, empathy was easy to come by, but relating was much more difficult to actualize. She brought the pencil to her lips, letting her teeth sink into the gum eraser. Orc observed, he knew this was her way of thinking, her own propensity, an idiosyncrasy. Orc scratched at the table, nails filled with dirt, useless mannerisms.

"Shall we continue with your tutoring?"

"Yeah."

* * *

A thin costal mist billowed out across the landscape, dampening everything within its touch, dew. The grass had long since been forgotten grown raggedy and untamable, it lashed out at the boys legs as they walked leaving small slits at its embrace. It concealed them as they lay down, forgotten bottles surrounding them, glistening wet with even more dew. Tiny droplets. An abandoned play ground, rusted swings and slides, the sound of laughter no longer heard, the perfect hideout. Howard cracked the silence with a question.

"Why'd he hit you this time, man?"

"I broke some loser's nose."

"So? You've broken lots of noses."

"They told him."

"Who?"

"The school."

"So?"

"They won't let me come back."

"They expelled you? Orc can you at least try to speak properly?"

"No, just for week. I'm no stupid, words just don't like me."

"I know."

"Neither does Algebra."

* * *

A singular click, that's all it took, a singular flame iridescent and jumping brimming with malign intentions as it melted into the cheap plastic picture frame. The air condensed with the toxic thickness of its odor, charred and dripping gaudy colors down glass. Orc flicked the lighter off, the flame vanishing beneath the metal, awaiting a singular click to reunite it with the world. The frame tossed, family photo hitting brick, shattering. "Damn them."

He was supposed to be in class, Algebra. "Damn it."

Picking at a scab, puss festering at the surface as his nails dug into injured flesh, alcohol dripping into the open sore as he messily sipped at the near full bottle. Stinging. A sensation, a bloody sensation. The chatter of adults, mere conversation, nothing important, just them, rambling on, their perfect lives. Humorous. But Orc, now Orc was failing. Algebra.

Silence, the start of everything bad, the move that sends the first pawn forward. It was followed by a car alarm, then two, and ten, and…Orc lost track. He stepped forth from the alleyway, cars sitting misshaped across the road, no blood, no bodies. He was drunk, he must have drunk himself insane. They couldn't just be gone? But isn't that what Orc wanted, for them to be gone. If only he had gone to Algebra.


End file.
